


I can fix your bike, you might be able to fix my heart, but we can't fix our bodies

by ChaoticEther



Category: RWBY
Genre: Background WhiteRose, F/F, Mentions of past family abuse, Mentions of past relationship abuse, Neptune is here for some reason, Non-graphic mentions of accidents, Soulmate AU of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 16:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticEther/pseuds/ChaoticEther
Summary: Yang sees Blake and instantly falls for her. Almost like she's loved her since time immemorial. And the only questions she wants to ask right now is where she got those scars, and why they're practically mirrors to her own.





	I can fix your bike, you might be able to fix my heart, but we can't fix our bodies

**Author's Note:**

> After the whole fiasco with The Fic That Shall Not Be Named, I've done my best to tag this with the relevant warnings. If you feel there's one missing, please DM me over at whiteroseisendgame on Tumblr and I'll add it as soon as possible. I don't bite, and the last thing I want is someone reading this without being aware that it may be harmful/upsetting to them.

The sounds of metal and bone are the last things Weiss can remember. And her father’s nigh-indifference to the “accident” happening on the factory floor, all so he could name his only son as the heir to the family fortune and disown her. It played through her mind a little too often, reliving the days spent trapped in a hospital, listening to Jacques’ threatening tone in her ear while she was powerless. Ironwood arguing with him, insisting she wasn’t a lost cause, that if her own father wasn’t going to _try_ then perhaps the General of the Atlas Military would be forced to intervene. The ringing in her ears when she sat upright and lunged forwards to grasp her leg in a vain attempt to relieve the pain, the pressure, an agony she truly couldn’t put into words. Only to find nothing there, and cast her eyes to the pair of prosthetics on the floor beside her. Her exasperated gasps had roused her girlfriend, leaning into her side as arms pulled her as close as humanly possible.  
“It’s okay, Weiss. I’m here. Where does it hurt?” Ruby asked, bringing a hand to Weiss’ shoulder and tracing the top of her shoulder blade with her thumb.  
“N-n-nowhere you can reach.” She replied, though the words were partly lost in the crook of Ruby’s neck.  
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” An open palm guided ice-blue and shining silver to meet, tilting her chin up slightly as it did so. Their lips brushed to make up for the lack of words, and Weiss fell in love with her all over again. Just like she did on every night like this. They were eighteen and twenty again, seeing each other across the campus and becoming magnetised. Staying up all night just to keep their demons at bay; laughing honestly instead of for the sake of others. Ruby and Weiss were, for lack of a better term, meant to be. Broken, yet complete in their own beautiful ways. Even now, when Ruby still had a year before getting her degree, Weiss was rarely away from her for any longer than necessary.

Her sister was a genius, and pretty to boot, but she’d never found a girl who captivated her like Ruby had. At least, she hadn’t, until she dropped her bike off at the one shop, she trusted not to make a mess of it for a MOT. An enigma with cat ears perched on a stack of tyres, legs kicking against it as she waited for the oil to drain from the car she was working on. A set of mysteries just begging to be unravelled. A set of overalls looking like the only thing she was wearing.  
“Hey, Neptune, who’s the new girl?” Yang asked, practically shouting while looking over his shoulder at the faunus girl’s ears turning in her direction but making no attempt to move.  
“Holy _shit_ Yang, _you’re_ asking about someone? Did you see a flying pig on the way over?” Neptune jabbed, fiddling with the welding goggles on his head. “Her name’s-”  
“Blake. Blake Belladonna.” The girl in question interrupted him, having almost soundlessly covered the distance to the pair. She looked over the owner of the bike they’d be working on next, leathers fitted perfectly for her, making her gold hair stand out even more than it probably would normally due to its black colouration. A confident smirk that assured her she was, in fact, definitely the owner of the screaming yellow and orange motorcycle. Spending a dangerously long time fixed on the nape of the blonde’s neck, fighting images of her lips pressed against it. Even Yang existing in the same room as her felt like a threat to her safety, one that she seemed ready to accept in exchange for an arm around her waist. She tried not to notice the flicker of red in the customer’s eyes, inspecting her overalls and gloves, practically forcing her to readjust them and admit she liked being a point of focus. At least, for the force of nature standing on the other side of the counter.  
“Nice to meet you Blake! I’m Yang! And that’s Bumblebee!” Yang pointed behind the pair at the bike.  
“Thrilled to meet you.” Blake responded, deadpan.  
“You too! Now, if you’ll let m-”  
“I was talking to the bike. Neptune said she’s special, so I’ll take her out to dinner. That cool with you, Yang?” Toeing the line between serious and sarcastic expertly, the faunus gathered her hair into a loose ponytail before stepping back into the workshop proper, motioning for Yang to follow. It was a technique she’d mastered over time; using humour to keep people at a comfortable distance. After Adam, distance was something she so desperately needed, and yet, every time she caught a glimpse of Yang, she felt herself wanting to leap over the self-imposed chasm between herself and the rest of the world. To dive right into her waiting arms, to a newfound home amidst the chaos she looked so poised to be the cause of.

There was also the small matter of the scar, sitting above Yang’s left eye like a mirror to the one above her right eye. _Like a really hot reflection,_ Blake joked to herself, running a gloved hand over the bike’s chassis as though it had so many stories to tell. Yang caught a glimpse of another silver-white line peeking out from the neck of the mechanic’s overalls, absent-mindedly bringing her hand to an identical one along her back. That accident would’ve been the end for her if she’d moved from her spot in the middle of the road. But the marks were different, one was clean, precise, deliberate; the other was rough, a result of someone’s half-assed attempt to patch up a wound, like it was only fixed because it _had_ to be. All Yang wanted to ask was _how._ How could anyone bring themselves to hurt someone so damn attractive? How did this girl manage to end up here, like there was nothing amiss, with all her scars and souvenirs and a placid smile that seemed so at home in the workshop?  
“-Earth to Miss Xiao-Long?” Blake’s attempts to grab her attention finally succeeded in pulling her out of a daydream about getting lost in the new hire’s golden eyes.  
“Huh?” Yang made no attempt to hide how little she was paying attention, a strange sort of bluntness that drew a giggle from the only other person in the shop. “Did you say anything important? I was kinda distracted.”  
“ _Kinda?_ Just that I’m free in two days, if you wanna grab a drink, or something.” Blake repeated, “With the way you’ve been staring I doubt I can expect a no.” The end of the sentence was punctuated with a small laugh, offering a hand to take the girl’s scroll and enter her number. Stretching towards her a little too much. Catching a glimpse of the patchwork skin she could easily forget about under her overalls and gloves; a reminder of Adam’s voice screaming at her to leave the girl and follow him. So powerful she reflexively drew back into herself, ears folding down and causing Yang to start a little in the middle of handing over her scroll at the sudden movement.  
“Are you okay-?” She didn’t expect an honest answer, but she asked anyway because the concern needed to be voiced. It’s strange; she’s not usually the type to push for answers, but Blake called to her, begged her to probe further, like she was the only one in the world who could possibly hope to get information out of her.  
“I’m… No. Got caught up in a bad crowd when I was younger.” Blake offered no more than she deemed necessary, and Yang knew better than to ask for it. They resumed the exchange of numbers, albeit muted, less flirtatious and more understanding. Blake swore she caught a glimpse of yellow and black underneath one of the blonde’s riding gloves; perhaps she wasn’t the only one with damage she was trying her best to move on from.

\-----

“And _I_ thought you were dead inside!” Weiss snarked from the opposite side of the table, handing her menu to the waiter with a well-rehearsed smile. “Who’s the lucky winner of your heart?” Yang dropped the hand she was resting her chin on back down to the table with an audible metallic thud, exhaling dreamily before even entertaining a response,  
“Blake Belladonna. She’s good with bikes, black hair, and she’s just…”  
“Really fucking hot?” Ruby interjected, catching her sister so off-guard she didn’t even register the curse, “Sounds like every other girl you’ve wanted to rip the clothes off so far. What’s so special about her?” Yang never failed to be amazed at how well the youngest of the three could read people.  
“I, uh, I don’t know. Like, I just want to spend all my time with her, I guess? She’s kinda cool and mysterious,” _and broken_ , is what she’s tempted to add on, but it doesn’t feel like the right word. There’s plenty of better words to describe Blake, though language can only do so much when you’re so sure of how things should go. She isn’t something to ‘fix,’ but a puzzle to solve. “… And really _fucking_ hot. Have I mentioned that?”  
“A few times,” Weiss sighs from behind her wine, causing Ruby to snort into her Diet Coke. “Does she know? About your arm, I mean. Not that you keep the _expensive piece of technology_ very hidden anyway.”  
“I don’t think she saw it, but I don’t care. At the rate we’re going we’ll have seen every inch of each other in a few days’ time,” Yang joked, inspecting her prosthetic once again. A parting gift from someone she refused to let into the bar one night. “And you’re one to talk, Miss “my legs are so bright they can be seen from outer space”. Seriously, Ruby, I have no idea what you see in her.”  
“Hey! _She_ is right here!”  
“Neither do I, some days.” Ruby jabbed her girlfriend in the ribs, juxtaposing it with a smug grin and a mocking “you love me.” She was right; not that Weiss would say it in front of the girl who would undoubtedly be coming for her if things ever went sour.

Instead, she saved it for the walk home, whispered into her ear as she bent down from behind Ruby’s wheelchair. Until Weiss, Ruby had insisted on managing by herself. But, as they stopped, and the Ice Queen’s ponytail touched the floor thanks to her crouching, she found it hard to imagine any life before Weiss, resting her hands on the rose-patterned thigh-highs that her girlfriend had ‘permanently borrowed’ to cover up her prosthetics, despite their holes and ladders exposing the bare, unpainted metal beneath. A kiss in place of repeating the words. A hand on Weiss’ shoulder, pushing her away so she could read her girlfriend’s silver eyes as clearly as possible. _I’ve loved you since the day we met. Maybe even before that._ Is what she thinks of saying, but her partner seems to understand well enough just from a look.  
“I’ve never seen you not be grossed out by your sister talking about girls,” Weiss remarks, perhaps slightly too bluntly for other company.  
“This one’s different.” Ruby accentuates the comment with a gentle smile, “I’ve seen Yang be a lot of things, but not in love. Until now.”

\----

It's three years ago all over again. Adam has his hand firmly wrapped around her arm, stopping her from running anywhere else but closer to him. She can just about make out the girl stepping into the ring, eyes burning red and hair shining gold as she tracked downwards over the orange sports bra and shorts to the purple bandana around one leg, just above her knee-length boots. Like watching a sunset. If a sunset could take on their best fighter one-armed. The mystery girl is barely breaking a sweat, throwing him to the canvas over and over until he starts leaving red stains. It’s an overzealous swing that does him in. Overextending, pushing his centre of mass too far forwards and stumbling. She’s down and under, filling the space he leaves, fist firmly against his gut as he’s laid out against the mat, unconscious. She leaves before anyone can catch her, grabbing a duffel bag of money and hiding inside a yellow hoodie with a dragon embroidered into the back. She’s hard to miss. And just like that it all falls away, back into the deepest recesses of her mind; the last thing to go is the glowing red framed by his horns. Blake lurches awake, hands instinctively curling around the pillow and bedsheets to keep her there. Away from him. She reaches for her scroll, instinctively taps out a message to Yang without questioning why;  
_Are you up?  
always for u  
_The candidness almost threw her off, as did the speed of the reply; why would she be up this late?  
_Can you meet me somewhere? Soon?_  
sure  
i finish in 10 mins  
You know Valida Park?  
see u there  
Blake wordlessly grabbed a pair of black ankle boots and spray-on black jeans from the end of her bed, tucking the scroll into her pocket and throwing on a purple sweater over the t-shirt she was sleeping in.

She didn’t really know what to expect when Yang arrived, but seeing her standing by the gate, lilac eyes calmly scanning over the surroundings before pinpointing Blake underneath a fluorescent light some distance away sent a wave of relief through her whole body. Upon closer inspection, the blonde didn’t seem to be wearing much at all for the weather, a sleeveless denim jacket sitting atop a plain black t-shirt with jeans rolled up past her ankles, the ensemble completed by canvas trainers. Extracting her hand from a pocket in a worried but pleased wave, she leaned back into the bench that Blake was perched atop, feet on the seat and a book placed pages-down in her lap.  
“What’re you doing up so late?” Blake asks, like they’ve known each other since they were kids.  
“I’m a bouncer at Qrow’s. Used to do martial arts, stops me getting rusty. You?”  
“I…” She pauses, unsure as to why talking about the topic isn’t weird around Yang. By all measures, it should be. But she answered the texts. _She_ actually turned up. “I wasn’t. Bad dream.”  
“What, you called me out here because you had a bad dream?” Yang snarks, interlacing her fingers behind her head and leaning back to get a better view of the stars.  
“Hey, you came.” The faunus shoots back, unfazed. Her gaze trails towards Yang, to her lips, past her hair spilling over the back of the bench, to the metallic yellow and black prosthetic lost beneath it.  
“I guess I did, huh?” She turns to Blake, fights a sigh. It’s a sentiment that bears repeating; just how pretty the girl beside her is. And how she barely seems to acknowledge such a feat, like it’s natural that everyone should want their world to revolve around her. Without the gloves, Yang can see the mess of scarring more clearly, untraceable lines retreating beneath her sweater as she swept her bangs away from her face and returned to the book.

“Your arm.” Blake speaks after a silence neither felt comfortable interrupting; without looking at her, like it makes the words any easier to say. “An… ex of mine, he used to take me to these fight clubs. There was this blonde girl there, but she only… they called her… The One-Armed Dragon.” Her breath catches at the end, feeling the back of Yang’s hand stroking her calf and letting their eyes meet once again. Realisation mixed with her tears as the blonde spoke up,  
“And you fell in love with her at first sight?” Yang continued, filling in the gaps she couldn’t say. “And now, you’re going to tell me all about what you’d say to her if you ever met her again.” Blake’s eyes dance to the prosthetic once again, then back to lips, fighting urges to kiss her right then and there, like the speech she’d had prepared for so many years was just a formality before the main event.  
“I’d ask how she ended up in a place like that. Someone so beautiful, and fierce. And what sort of a monster could bring themselves to harm such a person.” It’s strange; those very same questions are the ones Yang had wanted to ask her, but hearing them like an echo made her stomach tie itself into knots. Her eyes flash red like a warning sign, not for Blake but for herself, searching for the right words to explain what happened.  
“My birth Mum-Raven, left me with my Dad soon after I was born. Not long after, Dad met my _real_ Mum, and they had a kid; my sister, Ruby. He ran away, left Mum a note saying he wanted to be with Raven. She died when I was 18, leaving Ruby at 16. Car accident.” She stops, acutely aware of her company sliding down onto the seat with her and wrapping her into a sideways hug. “You do a lot of _crazy_ shit when you’re that young and trying to look out for yourself and someone else.” Blake nods, apparently satisfied, wiping her eyes into the sleeve of her sweater and letting it pull back, revealing more of the marks along her arm. “Did someone-?” Yang starts, only to be met by a shake of the head and an earnest look, almost physically bracing herself for the story.  
“No-no, this was me. I pulled a girl out of a burning wreck of a car. I’ll never forget those-those silver eyes looking back up at me.” Her ears lowered, dredging up the sound of Adam’s voice once again. Berating her for even so much as stepping away from him to help. “I ran away from my ex after seeing myself in them, crazy as that sounds.” Blake could remember it clear as day. She barely recognised herself, dressed to please him, made up to please him, just… Everything _for him._ God, it made her sick just thinking about it. A fact that played across her face, judging by Yang’s troubled expression.  
“And that’s how you ended up at Nep-Tune-Ups?” She still smirked a little at the name; after all, she came up with it.  
“He was part of a gang called the White Fang. Wouldn’t let me get any formal training, but I could dismantle and service almost anything you put in front of me.” Blake admits, and the blonde’s face lightens a little.  
“I could tell. Bumblebee’s almost entirely custom, and you managed to work on it within an hour.” Yang backtracks slightly, realising what struck her in the middle of the faunus’ story. “Wait. Did you say silver eyes?”  
“Yeah. Black hair, but it kinda-”  
“Faded into red,” they chorused, causing Blake to reel backwards a little, only to be stopped by a set of arms around her waist, pulling her back into a hug. But this one was different, apologetic, almost. Somehow, Yang sobbing at all seemed like such a foreign concept. Like she should really be doing everything in her power to stop this from happing as her own tears soaked into the blonde’s t-shirt. The only way she could think of doing so would be to kiss her, to take a little bit of the pain her life had been in, stow it away like only she could. She gasps a little, hoping it has the same effect, hoping it helps.  
“You saved my sister, Blake.” Is the only explanation forthcoming, blunt but bittersweet as it may be.

As the sunrise tinted their surroundings, the pair remained fixed; time froze in a small bubble around them, not entirely sure what to do. It was like they’d had years of experience; _perhaps in a past life_ , Yang wondered. Millennia of hearing those same stories, crying into each other’s arms as the final few puzzle pieces fell into place around them. If there was one thing for certain, they were meant to be. Life had been throwing them together, over and over again, chipping and breaking them here and there in a desperate attempt to kindle feelings from what seemed like forever ago. They were battered and bruised, but finally, they were together. Finally, time began to flow normally again. Their eyes met, with Blake brushing Yang’s bangs away from her forehead. She felt blood rush to the touch, chasing it even after her hand moved away. Somehow, all of this was right, in a way.  
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Yang added, a slightly crooked smile resting between tracks of tears.

\----

They barely make it a few hours without texting each other. Ruby says, _if you’re going to be gross, please do it elsewhere,_ though the only reply from Yang is a cushion to the face. After such a harsh night, the banality of discussing drink preferences comes just as easily, although it’s not without a few mocking “You’re in love~”s from both Weiss _and_ Ruby. Like the universe saw two kindred spirits and decided to shove them near each other for the fun of it. Blake occasionally took a few minutes to reply, but the gaps were filled by Neptune’s apologetic messages for making Yang’s “girlfriend actually do what she’s being paid to do.” _Everything’s easy when you find the right person_. Summer had said that to her years ago, and it was only now that Yang was realising quite how right she was. Like she was constantly being pulled to Blake, asked to look after her, maybe even love her. To take her hands and make everything right with the world again. Let Armageddon come, they’ll be there holding hands, laughing, crying over things that only even really mattered to them.

Blake had been half-expecting somewhere fancy as she rounded the final corner to the location of their date. Yang had said she’d be wearing a leather jacket and jeans, but she didn’t put it past her to wear that sort of thing to an upmarket restaurant. Relaxing when she saw it was just a coffee shop, and placing an olive-green sweater over her white button-down and black trousers to combat the cold slightly. Her date was notified of her presence by a beanie landing on the table in front of her, ears readjusting themselves to being out in the open and fighting a blush as Yang looked her up and down, silently appraising her choice of outfit.  
“Sorry, who are you?” the blonde teased, mocking confusion.  
“Miss Belladonna. We spoke on the phone? You paid for the night?” Blake wasn’t giving up without a fight, smirking and taking the seat opposite her. “Tea, thanks.” Her order is directed to the waiter, but even he can tell her entire focus is on Yang. She’s a walking wildfire, but right now they’re at the centre of it all. In the jacket, her prosthetic is mostly hidden save for a black and yellow hand wrapped comfortingly around a mug of black coffee, taking a sip before continuing their conversation, looking wholly enrapt in Blake’s golden eyes.  
“So,” _I love you,_ she thinks of following up with instantaneously, “not a bad place for a first date, huh?” Her free hand reaches over and picks up one of Blake’s, thumb instinctively running over her knuckles.  
“I was expecting somewhere fancier. Considering that Atlas grant I’d have thought you might be able to make a better impression.” A playful smile flashes across her face, enjoying herself in a way she never thought she’d be able to.  
“Well, I was always taught that the top pays.” Blake has to stifle a laugh at the remark, brazen but in a good way, just like the rest of her. “Didn’t know how far a mechanic’s pay would get us.”  
“I’ll let Neptune know I need a raise, then.” Just like all first dates should be, really. Carefree, fun, memorable. And they’d certainly remember this. The winter night would be dark, if it weren’t for the neon storefronts and puddles from recent rain scattering various colours around them, tinting Blake’s hair every possible colour as they walked, idly chatting about nothing and everything. At one point, Yang stops, lets her walk a few extra paces until she realises there’s no one beside her, grins plainly as she turns back with a raised eyebrow.  
“What’re you doing?” She asks, like she hasn’t spent the whole evening doing the same thing.  
“Just… Appreciating this. Appreciating you, Belladonna.” The blonde closes the gap once again, reaching for her date’s hands and intertwining their fingers before placing a kiss onto her hair. She looks up, lower lip resting slightly between her teeth. They’re thinking the same thing. Blake cups her cheek with one hand, letting her relax into it, the other resting gently over her heart as she lifts the back of her feet slightly. Yang’s hands fall naturally to her hips, like it’s where they belong, leaning forwards and allowing their lips to meet, tongue tracing over her bottom lip, waiting for the rest of the world to fall away, for it to be only the two of them. People walk around the scene, but the street may as well be empty to them. Like broken mirrors, reflecting each other down to every scar.


End file.
